The Nightmare Before Christmas
by The Devil of Angels
Summary: There's a killer on the loose in New York and Peter is desperately trying to solve it before Christmas Day. Ten years before the same killer rampaged through and then five years ago. This time, Neal is the fifteenth victim and if he survives till Christmas Day, he gets to live. Can Peter save his friend in time, or will Neal just become another victim. *I suck at summaries*
1. Chapter 1

**This won't be too long of an author's note, but for those who hate the death or maming of main characters, TURN BACK NOW. If you don't care, then enjoy!**

"Where the hell is Neal? Jones," Peter shouted at his friend and colleague. Jones came jogging over with a folder in hand.

"Yeah Peter?"

"Where the hell is Caffrey?!" Peter was frustrated that his CI was about an hour and forty-five minutes late.

"I don't know. I can check his tracking data for you." Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and tapped his foot. He and Neal hadn't been getting along the past few days and they had a falling out the day before, leaving Neal to sort out his issues along in an empty house. June was visiting a friend out of town and wouldn't be back for another two weeks and Mozzie was somewhere other than there, at least that's what Peter assumed. The little man was weird.

"No, no. That's alright Jones, I can do it." Peter actually felt kind of stupid for forgetting about Caffrey's anklet. He called the Marshal's office.

"He is currently at 87 Riverside Drive," the operator told Peter and he hung up. He motioned for Diana to join him and Jones.

"I need to check on Caffrey and tell him to get his ass moving so until I get back, Diana, Jones is in charge and you are to help out with anything he needs. Both of you keep everyone in line. I won't take more than an hour," Peter told them. "Hopefully," he mumbled under his breath as he grabbed his jacket and swiftly headed for the elevators.

Peter arrived at June's house a few minutes later and knocked on the door. No answer. "Neal," Peter called as he opened the door, which was strangely unlocked. Usually, Neal, June or the housekeeper would lock the door. "Neal!" Peter reached for his gun and grabbed it out. He walked into the kitchen and there was a slight breeze from the open windows. Strange, Peter thought because it was winter and cold. Peter walked over and cautiously searched the kitchen. He noticed that the closet was ajar and he opened it. There was a blood spattered body propped up against the side that fell out when the door opened. Peter recognized it as the housekeeper. Her eyes, or should he say eye, gazed sightlessly at the ceiling and what was left of her face was twisted up in agony. The blood was already beginning to dry so this had happened a bit ago.

Peter almost missed the note pinned to her with a very beautiful and sharp knife. Peter glanced at it and had to read it a second time before his eyes widened and he sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. "NEAL!" Peter was screaming his name and got no answer. He busted down the door and almost screamed at what he saw. The table was flipped on it's side and three of the chairs that had sat around it, lay broken on the floor. Furniture was tipped over and the terrace window was smashed and Peter could hear the crunching the shards made under his foot. This didn't disturb him as much as the blood did. There was blood _everywhere_. It was staining the glass shards, pooled on the terrace and on the floor inside, on the furniture and smeared across the walls. Peter walked out on the terrace and saw a large puddle of blood next to an overturned wrought iron table. The chairs that sat by it were no where to be seen. There was, however, a knife. It was a carving knife that had two letters carved in it's ivory handle. The blade gleamed and shimmered in the pale winter light and it still shone with the blood of it's victim. Peter walked back in and searched the entire room. No one was in here, but he discovered more blood and some bloody rope. There was a major struggle in here and Peter saw scuff marks that lead in a line across the room which meant someone had been dragged. Peter thought that this was as worse as it could get. He turned and looked at the blank canvas that was propped up on the stand. Something was written backwards on it and Peter didn't want to turn to see it in the mirror, but he did and felt bile rise in his throat. It definitely was _not_ red paint that the person used.

**_Look in the Light_**

Peter didn't understand at first, but then he looked at the light that hung above the now overturned dining table. There was a shadow of something in it and Peter slid a chair over and grabbed the small note that was written in the same font as the last and was signed with the same initials as he found on the knife's handle. Peter's eyes widened for a second time and he felt sick again. The note fell from his shaking hands as he cursed and swore like there was no tomorrow. He grabbed the chair for support as his knees buckled and he staggered to the doorway. He pulled out his cell and called Diana.

"Yeah boss?"

"Di...Diana we have a _MAJOR_ situation. Bring backup and everyone. Something...something...there's," Peter stuttered.

"What's there Peter? Did Caffrey cut his anklet again?" Peter snapped out of his thoughts and looked up at the light again. There was still something up there and Peter reached up to grab it. He dropped it like it burned him and he stared at it with fear and horror. "Peter? Is something wrong?"

"Get over here now Diana. I'm at Caffrey's and I know why he didn't come in today." Peter hung up the phone and hoped that Diana realized that something was seriously up.

In fifteen minutes, SWAT was bursting into the large house and Diana came rushing up the stairs to see what Peter was freaking out about. She got to the doorway and nearly fainted. Blood and overturned furniture was what she saw first. Peter was sitting on one of the only non bloodstained chairs in the whole room. His head was in his hands and she put a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her with defeat in his eyes.

"He didn't run, his anklet was in the light and so was this." Peter handed her the second note and her eyes went wide and got a little teary. She dropped the note and put her hands up to her mouth and the SWAT team and Jones came in. Even the SWAT members looked horrified at the state of the room.

Peter kept reading the two notes over and over again and he was hoping for some clue as to what happened. After about the twentieth time reading it over, something in his mind clicked. Peter's face grew solemn and dark. He recognized the handwriting and the initials. He knew why they left notes and why they left the knife. It was part of their way. This person had been terrorizing the city ten years ago and then five years ago. He killed exactly fifteen people and always left the same calling card and signs. Then, as suddenly as the whole ordeal had began, it stopped. The fifteenth victim was taken and the only thing left on the seen was a knife like the one Peter had found on the terrace and a folded note signed with the same initials as on the knife. There was no sign of him at all for almost five years until now. Suddenly, he's resurfaced. Peter couldn't believe it didn't click as soon as he saw the first note and then the knife.

The case that Neal so desperately hated that he and Peter had had a falling out over. At first Peter didn't understand why, but now reading the notes, he knew. Apparently, Neal had done some extra research using his own sources. Caffrey had discovered his identity, but realized that he was now the next target. He was trying to save Peter and everyone else. He knew that if he told them then they would become targets because no one ever could find out the true identity of this man, this notorious serial killer that had already taken and slaughtered seven people for every day of the week. Neal had now become his fifteenth hostage and victim. No one ever survived being kidnapped by this man. In fact, most died after an hour.

Peter knew this killers game, he had been researching. He had a pattern. Ten years ago, when this killer first emerged, he came out on December tenth. He took a victim each day until his fifteenth victim. He then wrote one last note and left the same type of knife with the same initials on it. No one would hear from him until five years later on December tenth. He took fifteen more victims and none survived like before. The same message was written on the note as the last time the last victim was taken. Now it had stayed the same pattern. On December tenth, the first victim was taken, a young fourteen year old lad by the name of Casey Fitzgerald. There was no reason for him to target any of the victims. It was all randomized unless someone had uncovered his identity. Five years ago, an FBI agent, Agent Rikens, had been doing her research. She never came into work the next day so her best friend and partner Agent Cassidy stopped by her house. No one had heard from Agent Rikens. If the victim did not survive, then an address was written on a slip of paper and left outside of the FBI's main building. It always led them to where the body was. By then, no one could recognize them. This time, the killer had done the same thing to the previous fourteen victims. None survived so fourteen different address' showed up at the FBI building. The first victim's address was left at the beginning of the eleventh and so on. They had gotten a note with the fourteenth victim's address written on it earlier that morning. Peter had never thought that this man would take Neal. Peter kept scanning the notes. There should have only been one note, yet there was two. The final note always said the same thing, but now there was a second one. Peter read what the final note had said again.

_It's been a good game and I would love to play again. I do send good will towards those who have lost one of their family members or dear friends. It has been fun. Until we meet again._

_A.D._

Then he reread the second one utterly surprised.

_If you Feds are reading this then know that I won't kill Mr. Caffrey immediately like I have before. If he makes it til Christmas day and he's still living, then you can have him back. My christmas present to you and as an apology for causing you such a hassle. Who knows, Caffrey may survive and be able to tell you Merry Christmas the same day. I highly doubt it though, you see, I am not a killer. I only seem like one. Truthfully, most of them just kill themselves. I have yet to hurt any of them because none are expecting me. Your con is good though. He figured out who I was after the first victim, but I didn't let him know I was coming. He figured that out on his own. He was waiting for me you see. He put up quite a fight unlike that other lady. It didn't take much for her to kill herself. It was pitiful to see that considering there were many that loved her. I leave you this note to tell you that I believe that Mister Caffrey won't survive, but if he does, then feel free to take him. I left the tracker because I hate being followed, don't you? Oh and don't forget to watch the T.V. tonight, I hear there's something special on channel 15 that you don't want to miss. Until we meet again._

_A.D._

Peter was frightened, scared and horrified all at once. They had yet to figure out who's initials they were, but Peter was starting to think it was a nickname.

"Diana! Turn the T.V. to channel 15," Peter shouted at Diana who immediately obliged. Those who were still in the room gathered around the T.V. and were horrified by what they saw.

**Heh heh heh. I'm so damn evil right?! Do you know who this mystery person is? Why are they giving Neal a chance at life? And why did they say that the victims kill themselves? He's lying, isn't he….I guess no one will know until the next chapter. I'm still deciding over whether Neal should die before Christmas or after Christmas because NEAL MUST DIE AT SOME POINT! It's just a matter of when he dies. I leave you pondering whether you should have even read this or if you should have just avoided the nightmares. I suggest that if your stomach is queasy now, TURN BACK, maybe. I don't care, if you enjoy this then by all means review and keep reading. I will find out who views this, but then doesn't review. Until we meet again, or if we never do then you're in luck.**

**-Angel**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm back and as sweet as ever. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Yeah you wish! But seriously, I'm doing pretty great and possibly get this story finished in two more chapters. I might make it a little longer, but you'll just have to see. I hate waiting on people to finish their stories so I will try to get these chapters finished and posted as soon as I can and does anyone want to Beta my stories? I would love someone to Beta my stories so if anyone wants to then great! Onto what you really care about if you even read this…**

"Peter...what did the other note say?" Diana had pulled Peter away from the screen after he had almost broke the T.V. trying hysterically to get Neal out. He was sitting in what appeared to be a cold, damp, cement basement of sorts. The walls must be really thick and sound proof because there's no sound to give some sort of clue. All they can see is a curled up lump of torn and bloodied cloth that is hanging off a person who everyone assumed to be Neal. He is occasionally shivering and curling tighter in a ball before he lets out a screech of pain and uncurls a bit before repeating the cycle like a dog who doesn't understand what's causing the pain of something.

Peter is steaming with anger. He hands the other note over to Diana and he sees her eyes move back and forth across the page until the note fell from her shaking hands.

"He never lets anyone live."

"I know Di, but I hope that Neal can last though, he may not want to."

"Why?"

"He probably thinks that everyone has abandoned him. He probably assumes that he has no reason to live. This is all my fault," Peter says, kicking a chair across the room. He was frustrated, scared, frightened, angry and pissed all at once. He ran his hand through his messy hair. "And have you seen the state the previous victims had been left in. This man says that it was all self harm. I have no damn clue how the hell that happens, but I am starting to doubt that Neal will live or, if released, will want to live." A groan brought Peter's attention back to the screen.

Neal moved a bit and then another groan escaped his lips. He was cold and he felt something wet and sticky on his stomach. He put a hand to the area and hissed in pain. Caffrey sat up on the damp concrete floor and looked around. Everything was dimly lit and Neal's eyes weren't adjusted to the contrast of the dark and light just yet. There were no windows in the room and it seemed to be maybe a ten by ten box at most. Neal blinked a few times and then crawled over to a wall. He used it for support as he tried to stand. _Cowboy up Neal_, a voice in his head yelled at him. He chuckled and then groaned. Neal stood shakily on two feet and staggered a few steps forward, away from the wall. He had a arm draped across his midsection. Neal dropped that arm and he could have sworn he saw something flash in a corner of the room. There was a small video camera. He looked at it and then tried to jump and reach it, but decided against it when his midsection cried out in pain. He looked down even though he really didn't want to and saw what was the cause of the pain and blood. There was a long, deep cut that dragged on across his stomach from one side to the other. It was still sluggishly bleeding and Neal was starting to feel light headed so he leaned against the wall and slid down. Another soft groan escaped his lips from the movement and he tried in vain to remember what happened. Then he thought of something. Maybe there was sound if they were recording him. He looked up at the camera after he crawled into it's line of sight again.

"If anyone's watching this," Neal started, but began to cough and it hurt like hell. He couldn't stop coughing and it sounded thick. Suddenly, flecks of blood came up and Neal knew that it wasn't good. "If anyone's watching, especially Agent Burke, I want to say I'm sorry. I should have told you...I should have...told," Neal saw the ground come rushing up as his head his the floor with a crack even though he wasn't more than a foot off the ground. Neal saw red and then everything went black as he succombed to the darkness.

Peter watched in horror as Neal looked at the camera and then down at his midsection. Gasps were echoed in the room as they saw the extent of the wound. They were all shocked and then Neal disappeared from the line of sight with a soft groan before they heard something being dragged across the floor as Neal dragged himself across the floor and into the view of the camera. He looked up and began to talk.

"_If anyone's watching this." _ A horrible hacking sound cut off his words and Peter grew more frightened when he saw Neal's eyes widen a bit at the sight of the blood he coughed up. "_If anyone's watching this, especially Agent Burke_." Peter flinched when Neal used his professional title. "_I want to say I'm sorry. I should have told you...I should have...told_." Peter watched Neal's form crumple to the ground and a sickening thud could be heard. Caffrey's eyes fluttered shut and his whole body went limp. There was no movement and there was no noise. Everyone and everything was completely silent before the T.V. crackled and the camera's video went away. A beautiful woman showed up. She had long, almost black hair that had an ombre into a blood red color. Her eyes were a piercing blue and her lips were the color of blood as well. She looked beautifully horrifying. She had a paler complexion, but her lipstick and her dark eyes shadow and hair brought it out so much that it was like she glowed in the light.

"Hello my viewers. I hope you enjoyed the little show. There will be more and you will see almost every second of this. I assume that all of you expected a man to be behind everything, but seriously, I do believe that the notes and the handwriting and the ivory knife handles would point you towards a female, but I guess not. Your friend Caffrey here got a little too close to finding me so I took care of that. If you think I had any help from anyone, then think again. I never showed my face, in fact, those initials aren't even for my real name. They are my show name I guess you could call it. Angel's Devil. Isn't that just poetic. I said in my note Agent Burke that I will let Neal here go if he can survive till Christmas morning and I will leave a note telling you where he is. If you can figure out where he is before then than marvelous! If not then you better hope that your friend will last however long it takes you to get here. I wasn't lying when I said that I never harmed anyone, well I do harm them, but I don't kill them. I only kill them if they beg and beg for everything to end, then I put a bullet in their head and end it quickly, most of the time. Some still live for a bit after, but by the time you find them, they are gone. Your Neal seems to have a fighting spirit and he expected my arrival which proves that he was worthy to play my little game. I think he has a chance and if you are wondering how someone could lose so much blood and still survive, most of that is goat blood. The only puddle of blood that is actually Caffrey's is the one on the terrace. He was a stubborn one I must admit. Well Agent Burke, I will save you some time now. I am bouncing this signal around so much that by the time you trace it back to me, your friend will be dead and I will be gone. If you test any of the blood and it's not Caffrey's or a goat's then it is mine. Neal, that little bastard, got in a swing or two of his own and cut my arm pretty deep and gave me quite the horrible bloody nose. He is good Agent Burke. I may have some fun by breaking his fingers or _relieving _him of his hands. I know an artist and forger needs his hands, and without them, what would he be? Wish your pet con good luck Peter. He will need it," Angel finished with a cackle that only added to her evil and then the screen was switched back to Neal who was still limp and looking paler by the minute.

Peter had paled and everyone was looking at him.

"How does she know my name and how does she know Neal and what the hell is going on!"

**Peter is majorly pissed at this character who I may or may not have based off of myself. Don't worry, I don't look anything like my description of the "bad guy". And just to think y'all thought the dude was male. HA! Anyways, if you like this review and tell me if you want anything to go differently the next chapter or if I should fix something. Also let me know if this is a good length for the chapters or if it's too long or too short. I enjoy writing this story and I would love to take your ideas into consideration. Until we meet again, or if we don't then you are very lucky…**

**-Angel**


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